


Always Coming Back to You

by vorkosigan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Fluff and Angst, Historical Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Knights - Freeform, Loyalty, M/M, Reconciliation, king steve, knight tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13276200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorkosigan/pseuds/vorkosigan
Summary: King Steve spots a mysterious knight on a battlefield and recognizes him immediately. Only, they didn't part on the best of terms, and it's been some time. (Not related to my other medieval Stony AU)





	Always Coming Back to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/gifts).



> Written as a part of the Fandom Stockings 2017 event.

The armor and the sword were new, but Steve couldn't _not_ recognize the fighting style. Plenty of skill, plenty of bravery, and a whole lot of recklessness. After their last bad argument almost ended in blows, Steve thought he'd never see this man again. But here he was, in Steve's hour of need: Tony Stark of the Northern Marches, riding like a storm on a horse without house insignia, his visor lowered, with a blank shield on his left hand. Did he really think Steve wouldn't recognize him?

 

After the fighting had died down, Steve spotted him resting, leaning on his sword stuck in the ground.

 

In the din of the dying battlefield – the clanks and shouts and moans of the wounded – Tony didn't hear him approach, or otherwise pretended he didn't.

 

"Ser knight?" Steve called out, guardedly, when he was a few steps away.

 

"My king?" Tony's voice was muffled under the helmet, but it was unmistakable. Slowly, he turned around, and while the courtesy required him to at least lift the visor, he didn't. Of course he didn't. Only, Steve wondered if it was just the usual Tony-like rudeness or if he still hoped to escape recognition. Did he really believe that would work? Even now, up close?

 

Steve decided to play his game for the moment and act as if he didn't know who he was. "May I offer you a drink of wine?" he asked and offered him the wineskin.

 

He noticed Tony's begauntleted hand twitch towards it – he must be fiendishly thirsty by now – but the man shook his head. "Nah. Nope. I'm good. Thank you, though."

 

The disappointment in the pit of Steve's stomach was acute; not because he needed a confirmation of Tony's identity, but because he'd been hoping to see his face as he drank. Just a glimpse, after months of separation. He imagined he could see a glint of brown eyes through the visor slits, but it was just that – imagination.

 

Tony had been inching in the general direction of his horse ever since Steve first addressed him. Now he waved one hand towards the animal. "I should, ah, be on my merry way before it gets really dark."

 

"You aren't going to rest for a while? In the camp, there are..." Steve began.

 

"No, no," Tony interrupted him quickly. Bluntly. "I have to go. Sorry." Then, as an afterthought. "Your majesty."

 

Steve's heart fell. If Tony didn't want to stay, he couldn't make him. Well, he could, technically, with a force of three hundred knights and their assorted men at his disposal, but that wasn't something he would ever do.

 

He just nodded. Some of his unhappiness must have shown on his face – he never knew how to hide it from Tony, anyway – because Tony paused, as if to say something else, but then he changed his mind and turned to go.

 

Steve hurried after him and caught him by the arm. "You aren't hurt, though, are you?"

 

At that, Tony went very still. "No," he said after a long moment. "No, I'm good. You?" His voice was quieter, and somehow stripped of posturing all of a sudden; the pretense was coming to an end. It was very clear by now that Steve knew who he was and that Tony himself was aware of that.

 

Steve sighed. "I'm fine." And then, before Tony had the time to start towards his mount again: "How come you're here?"

 

"Well." Tony shrugged his armored shoulders, nodded towards Steve's army. "The cause is undeniably good. Noble. Although I hear the leadership is crap."

 

Steve fought a smile; lost. He was perfectly aware that Tony wouldn't fail to notice.

 

The knight lifted his visor then – _finally_ , Steve thought, unexpectedly dumbstruck by the sight of the big brown eyes. "You knew it was me, of course," Tony stated wryly.

 

"Of course," Steve agreed.

 

"From the start?"

 

"As soon as I saw you."

 

They stared at each other in silence. Still, Steve was painfully aware  that, unless he said something very soon, Tony would go. This time it may really be forever, this time he might never see him again. Tony had come all this way to help him win his battle. Now it was Steve's turn.

 

"Won't you come to my tent?" he asked almost mildly. "For a little while at least? Have a rest, eat something?"

 

Tony gave him a long look. While Steve was nearly sure he would say yes – he wouldn't be here, after all, if he didn't wish to see Steve at all – Steve felt a cold stab of dread at the possibility of refusal. Because, back when he thought he'd lost Tony for good, he learned how to deal with the sadness, but now that he was on the verge of having him back, he couldn't stand the thought of losing him again.

 

"You were the one who told me to leave." This was Tony - Tony, who couldn't just give in, of course; the man had to rub it in, had to _win_.

 

Steve didn't really mind, right now. He returned his gaze, unflinching. "Yes. And you were the one who said that, if you left, it would be forever."

 

'Well, I went back on my word, obviously," Tony said defiantly.

 

"And I," Steve replied, "have come to regret mine. So I'm asking you to stay."

 

"For a meal?"

 

"For as long as you want to," Steve said firmly. "Let's go back to my pavilion and try to talk about all of it one more time."

 

Tony arched an ironic eyebrow, but he was already falling in step with Steve, as they started toward the encampment. "Really, Steve? _Talk?_ "

 

"Among other things," Steve said serenely. For the first time in many months, he felt a pure wave of happiness wash over him as they walked side by side.

 

And for all of Tony's posturing, the moment the tent flap closed behind them, he was upon Steve. He tore off his own helmet and tossed it aside, and then his lips were on Steve's, softly insistent, almost pleading. "Good god, Steve, I missed you so much," he whispered, kissing Steve's mouth, his face, his eyes. "I missed you so much, you stupid idiot."

 

The familiar, joyful warmth coursing through him, Steve repaid him kiss for kiss.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
